The Library of the Unwritten by A. J. Hackwith

Author:A. J. Hackwith
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

SOMEWHERE, SOMEONE HAD A pot of Earl Grey on. Earl Grey with citrus, Claire corrected, detecting the lemon drifting through the air. Her favorite, when not mixed with the smell of death.

It soured her stomach. An old clock on the desk ticked, but otherwise there was no movement behind her, near the body. Claire clenched her fingers, which were absolutely not trembling, and pretended to sort through the stack of books by the window.

“May I ask why we just shot our only source of information for the pages of the codex?” Andras broke the silence, his voice mild.

“Come to think of it, why isn’t the well-armed guard outside rushing in at the sound of a gunshot?” Hero said.

“You need a body to need a bodyguard,” Claire mumbled under her breath. The help around here probably had strict instructions not to enter no matter what was heard.

“Is she dead?”

Leto’s panic finally brought Claire’s head around. The teenager looked even more pale than usual, if that was possible. He crouched over where the book collector lay, eyes wide as saucers as he extended a finger.

“Don’t touch, Leto. She’s . . . fine.” Claire scooped up a few books at random and gave them an underhand lob. “Flip through these. We’re looking for loose sheaves of very old paper.”

The books fell to the floor with a clatter—Leto had made no move to catch them. He turned a look of horror on Claire. It was earnest with a cutting edge. “Fine? You killed someone!”

“No, I didn’t. I—” Claire forced her jaw not to lock with tension. “Just start looking. Gentlemen, please. We don’t have much—”

She was cut off by a cry. Leto stumbled back, flinging himself away from the empty rug. An empty rug where, but a moment before, the prone body of the book collector had lain. A tacky pool of black blood and a slight impression in the crumpled carpet were the only indications left.

“. . . much time,” Claire finished.

“She disappeared.” Leto stumbled to his feet. “She just disappeared.”

“Disappeared rather like a character from an unwritten book.” Hero held an increasingly suspicious glint in his eye as he turned toward Claire. “Now, why would a body do that, warden?”

“As I said, we don’t have much time.” Claire moved toward the desk and studied the drawers. Locked, of course. She began rifling through the detritus for a key.

“Perhaps a very succinct explanation would speed things up,” Andras said.

She found the key resting in the bottom of a cup of pens. Exactly where she would have hidden it.

“Pup. Claire,” Andras prompted softly.

Claire’s lips thinned, and she let out a hard breath, staring at the key rather than at the others. It was dented; tarnish discolored the grooves between the teeth. “Because she is a character. That’s why I shot her. Characters retreat to their books when damaged—assuming they aren’t unable to do so like Hero here. It buys us time to find the codex pages while it’s busy recomposing itself.”

“So you didn’t kill her.

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